


Through the cracks in your walls

by se7ensecrets



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s04e18-19 The Killing Game, F/F, False Identity, Mild Sexual Content, Rough Body Play, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/se7ensecrets/pseuds/se7ensecrets
Summary: Anna is drawn to Katrine when buried memories begin to resurface."Anna’s breath catches when her hands are ceased with a quickness, and in an instant sees a flash in Katrine’s eyes. Gone is the pervasive cold she’s come to expect, now renewed with a wide-eyed passion that seeps into Anna’s veins like an antidote for her own frigidity."
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	Through the cracks in your walls

**Author's Note:**

> In case of any confusion, this takes place before either of them became aware of the simulation. Enjoy!

As Anna sings for the people at their small tables with drinks full and eyes vacant... there is always one pair that lingers in the corner of her vision, that pricks just as much as it seeks to lure her in, steady and not without considerable hubris.

She almost resembles a saint in her pearly white ensemble, staunch and yet poised within her seat with those rodents at her side. She extends a delicate hand across the way to touch one of the men she kept in close conversation, and Anna has to involuntarily summon the will not to choke on the ingrained words that were floating out from her vocal chords in silken melodies. She doesn't want her touching them, found it deplorable that they've extended any sort of amity to these men at all. As far as Anna is concerned, the only place they were welcome to inhabit was a shallow grave. 

Katrine spends her days so absorbed in strategy against the German troops that she's trained herself to smother anything residual, buries her emotions deep, her foes unable to sniff them out and manipulate her. Her charming and chatty attitude was for the guests and the vile men that came through the door searching for drink, and to latch their beady eyes onto Anna for an evening.

Most people would find this a most unsettling trait, but in the beginning it was what drew Anna to Katrine. In a world where everyone's emotions were running at a fever pitch, there are days where Anna feels she has none at all. It was a minor relief when she realized Katrine was in a similar situation in life. She, too, wore a mask. And she knew Katrine wouldn't ask much of her other than what she had signed on to do.

Ever since the death of her parents, violent and without reason, Anna has had difficulty connecting with herself—with others. The night when Katrine offered her bed to her was the night it had shifted, the night Anna realized she could still feel something other than intricate and varied shades of anger. And that Katrine could, too.

She considered that the reason Katrine had decided to pursue her sexually was nothing more than a tactic as well—for Anna was not blind to the fact that she didn't have her complete trust, that there was doubt regarding her loyalty, and that created a need to be on the defense in her mind; discerning. Perhaps keeping her close allowed Katrine a small reassurance that if Anna was planning any sort of subterfuge, she would know her well enough to simply smell it wafting off of her. Her senses were keen, but she was no mystic.

Whatever the case might be, Anna later concluded that she didn't care, for more than just the hinges on the door whined when Katrine had let her into her bedroom. She was given the rare opportunity to glance into whatever forgotten cellar Katrine always kept meticulously locked up inside herself. The overwhelming curiosity to peer through more than the keyhole was too great to resist.

Their first encounter had been rough, but invigorating, allowed Anna to feel more than she had in months; the pain somehow sensual, making the little gifts of pleasure all the more potent. At first, they were slow, took the time to learn what the other wanted until it turned hurried, rutting against the desperate hands slotted between their bodies, working each other until they were satisfied. 

She thought she saw something in Katrine's eyes when she came—a glimmer, an openness that struck something in Anna... But what? She was reminded of a term Brigitte had once used in her presence... Deja vu. The uncanny feeling that all of this is somehow familiar, yet undeniably foreign. 

Sometimes Anna thinks she can see her, like an old mental photograph, something out of a dream remembered, of a woman in red and black. Green highlighted her auburn hair, not unlike the color that permeated the bedroom from the green glass of Katrine’s ornate bedside lamp. But the surroundings of the image seemed utterly different... Alien.

The conundrum faded when Katrine's fingers had sped up again, and led Anna away from any hidden secrets she might stumble upon as her own orgasm became imminent.

•

As the last patron makes their way out of Le Coeur de Lion, stumbling and hiccuping, Anna carries out her nightly duty of emptying the cash register and counting their profits.

Tuvok, the only person here more austere than Anna herself, stands nearby while she sorts through the bills. She's used to being under surveillance, had grown up in an orphanage that acted more like a prison than a shelter, with children subdued by the very nature of the nuns who never relented in their strict ways.

The woman who would normally be a hairs breath away from Anna's neck is absent tonight, having took her leave the moment the Nazis filed out, had likely wanted to mull over the sparse insight acquired with a stiff drink and cigarettes to accompany her shrewd mind.

Once Tuvok was appeased, he bid her a formal good night, stepping out of Anna’s way to see her to the exit. Anna informs him that she wishes to lock up tonight. An angled brow arches at her statement, but grants her request, and takes his leave.

Anna spies him just outside the cafe doors, waiting to make sure she does as she had said. He will be waiting longer than intended, Anna thinks. But if he stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have, that will be his own doing.

It came as little surprise to Anna when she—of her own volition—began making her way up to the second floor of Le Coeur de Lion, to the small apartment Katrine retires to after all false pleasantries and reports were said and done.

Anna longs for her sting, could feel how tender her nipples were still as she climbed the hollowed out staircase, the brush against her dress sending her mind into vivid retelling of memories of the night before. She becomes inflamed with the thought of her, of Katrine, taking them in her mouth again; the lash of her tongue, the bite and pull of teeth at their prevailing soreness. The acute ache she knew it would elicit only added to the intensity.

She neglects to knock, lets herself in to the quaint living space unannounced. A record plays by the window, mellow notes of jazz that give a low scratch and pop as it rotates against the needle of the aged gramophone. A soft light is cast about the otherwise drab room made of old wooden floorboards and wallpaper that's beginning to peel at the edges, revealing the foundation behind it cracked—damaged by something. Anna immediately catches the scent of cigarette smoke, the wandering wisps of grey leaving a trail to the source.

Katrine sits on a brown leather sofa towards the back wall, her white jacket with the sequined lapels discarded along with her bow tie, draped against the arm. Her waistcoat hung freely open, the collar of her shirt unbuttoned just enough to provide Anna with the barest hint of breast. It's enough to keep her interested, even with the knowledge of what lay beneath it no mystery in her mind. Perhaps that's what made it all the more enticing. Anna knows what she could be having. What she _will_ have.

Katrine's lips curl tight around her cigarette, takes a drag before stretching one arm across the back of the sofa and reclining. Smoke escapes from her mouth and nose as she appraises Anna with a wandering stare that doesn't quite reach her face.

“I wondered if you might pay me a visit tonight,” Katrine drawls, a paragon of passivity. "Lose the dress."

Anna quirks her brow at the cocksure demand. "What do you intend on providing me in return?"

Katrine’s eyes narrow, her sharp tongue peaking out to wet her darkened lips. "My undivided attention."

Anna goes to remove her dress in one fell swoop, but is interrupted.

"No," Katrine stops her. "Slowly."

"If you want it done right, I suggest you do it yourself."

Anna suppresses a shiver when Katrine's head dips forward, her expression darkening. She's never been afraid of this woman—irritated and at times incensed, yes, but a look of danger only made the coiling in her lower stomach deepen and her lungs beg for breath; her appetite grow.

Wordlessly, Katrine takes a final drag of her cigarette, the orange flame at the tip glowing in the partial shadow of the room. She snuffs it out into the tray on the side table and motions with two fingers at Anna, widens the space between her knees and waits, expectantly.

Anna keeps her shoulders square as her heels click and creak against the wood floor, her vision narrowing with every step towards the woman, the other surroundings blurring into obscurity, sound filtering out.

One leg unearths from beneath the slit of the silver dress, and a knee places itself between Katrine’s thighs on the sofa as Anna silently leans into her. As if on cue, Katrine’s hands lay claim to her hips, but one breaks protocol to slide behind and grasp one cheek of her buttocks, squeezes and kneads. Anna makes no move to react, simply stares down at the face of both her captor and liberator, the way they stare back, challenging, and eager if you knew where to look.

She glides her hands under the lapels of Katrine's shirt, across the dusted skin of her upper chest and pushes the material back. Her eyes fix on the murky clouds of purple that inhabit her right collarbone. She could make out the faint bruising her teeth had made where she had bitten down a little too harshly, recalls how Katrine had hissed and groaned, how that sound reverberated through her senses, encouraged Anna to do as she will.

She’s drawn to the skin of her neck, pale and unmarred, runs the tip of her nose to the sharp line of her jaw. Her perfume smells heavy, a spicy sort of musk that’s vastly different from Anna's own—a clean but abstruse scent.

Following her instincts, her lips find the fluttering pulse and they dance against each other, her tongue coming to taste just as Katrine’s voice fills her ears, as her hands roam under Anna’s dress; fingers pressing, pulling, searching for something that always seems just out or reach.

As Anna clasps a hand around Katrine's neck, tender touches of lips and tongue turn to sucking and biting as she devours the throat in her grasp, reels at the body against her as it bows and shifts ever closer.

In this moment, she cares about nothing other than to see that unyielding determination in Katrine crumble away, deteriorate into the wind. She wants to believe that she can feel what Anna yearns to feel in these microscopic moments when their despotic world slips away and it is only them.

Pulling back, she admires the newness of the red that has raised along the column of Katrine’s neck; the stark contrast of the mark, her lipstick and the pristine white of her collared shirt stirring something within Anna, unknown and impossible not to chase. She rakes her nails down the hollow of Katrine’s throat, hard enough to create more red in their wake.

Anna’s breath catches when her hands are ceased with a quickness, and in an instant there's a flash in Katrine’s eyes. Gone is the pervasive cold she’s come to expect, now renewed with a wide-eyed passion that seeps into Anna’s veins like an antidote for her own frigidity.

She doesn’t know what causes it, if it's the drowned out music that travels along the thin walls; causing the room to feel light and crooked, or the rush of desire; but there’s a noticeable dip in Anna’s center of reality. And it all rests in the blue-grey eyes of the woman who will lead them all to their preconceived fates.

Anna has never been able to explain why when she was first introduced to Katrine that it felt as if she knew her, a woman from her past. It quickly faded as they got to know one another, as arguments rose and differences in character revealed themselves; rifts created that separated them.

But here it was again, laid open for Anna to grasp, to know, to finally understand and perhaps to gain an understanding of herself along with it. To remember something she lost. She thinks Katrine must see something in her as well, that she was the reason for her stumbled awakening, that perhaps they awaken each other.

“Why is it when we’re together like this... I get the feeling that I've forgotten something? So ambiguous, so fleeting...” Katrine whispers, eyes rapt and searching.

Anna feels the need to provide her with an answer, like an old rhythm that came with ease.

“I do not know."

Distant pedestrian shouts and screams sever them, breaking apart as the room began to rattle, slipping back into their masks when the sound of the explosion reaches them. Anna impulsively lifts the skirt of her dress and disengages the pistol that's strapped around her leg, and in turn, Katrine reaches for her own under the tan sofa cushions, hidden world forgotten.


End file.
